


Bury Me Six Feet Deep

by kaijuvenom



Category: DCU (Comics), Gotham (TV)
Genre: 5x11, 5x12 Doesn't Exist, Altogether far too much karaoke, And Succeeding, Barbara has a baby but the baby isn't Jim Gordon's, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Oswald/Edward, Established Tabby/Barbara, F/F, Framing Jim Gordon For Said Art Heist, Fuck blue lives, I Changed A Lot Of Things But I Explain It All In Exposition(TM), Jeremiah Valeska doesn't exist in this universe, Jerome Is Still Alive Because I Like Him Better, M/M, Mentions of Homophobic Language, Not Canon Compliant, Oswald Cobblepot Drives A Sparkly Purple Prius, Please notice how this doesn't have any mention of a Jerome and Bruce relationship, Possible Additional Tags To Be Added, Slow Burn, Some Plot, Suburban AU, Tabby is still alive, Take Gotham But Put It In The Suburbs, Victor Zsasz is back, and he's here for comic relief, and the occasional sniping of disruptive bounce houses, art heist, because fuck you, i never ever ever will, lots of plot actually, mentions of child abuse, please don't ask me to write that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-09-27 23:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijuvenom/pseuds/kaijuvenom
Summary: After saving Gotham in the events of 5x11 and getting a thank you in the form of a prison and/or Arkham sentence, most of Gotham's criminals take it upon themselves to get revenge on the GCPD. There will be romantic drama, art heists, murders galore, the blossoming of new love, a dog in a Halloween costume, a lovely neighborhood in suburbia, a murderous pumpkin patch, and absolutely no heterosexuality. Gotham 2.0: I made it better.





	1. Lowlife

Despite the fact that Oswald had sacrificed his (very wonderful) escape plan via romantic submarine voyage with his boyfriend, as well as his (very valuable) life, the GCPD, in all its glory, had decided he was a ‘wanted criminal’ and a ‘danger to the city’. There was some sort of list, and Jim Gordon was hellbent on arresting everyone on it, and nearly all of the people on it were those Oswald would consider allies, so clearly, something had to be done. Taking Jim Gordon to the pier and trying to shoot him failed, so a plan B was needed. Barbara and Tabitha wouldn’t team up with Oswald, but they also weren’t actively trying to murder him, so it was a step in the right direction. Ed was, of course, completely willing to destroy Jim and the rest of the GCPD’s entire life, as was Fish Mooney. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised by that, she’d been willing to sacrifice her life to save Gotham just as the rest of them had, and she’d been screwed over by the GCPD because she was on the list with the rest of them.

The plan Ed, Oswald, and Fish had hatched was simple, in theory. It required a helicopter, a false invitation to dinner, several large grenades, and a conveniently located book entitled “How To Fly A Helicopter For Dummies”. The ultimate goal was to bomb the entire GCPD headquarters and frame Jim Gordon for it. Ed had come up with it, but Oswald had toned it down by about ten notches, because a marching band really wasn’t necessary, and nor was the concluding interpretive dance and ribbon show, even though Ed had begged to differ. 

Actually executing the plan was harder, because apparently helicopters flying over the GCPD and dropping grenades were seen as threats that should be shot down. On the plus side, shooting down the helicopter resulted in it crashing into the GCPD, so the ultimate goal was still achieved. Unfortunately for Fish, she had been in the helicopter at the time. Although considering her track record, a helicopter crash was likely to only leave her with a few broken bones.

Another wrinkle in the plan that exposed itself roughly three days later was that Jim Gordon hadn’t been in the headquarters that day. He was still perfectly safe and alive. The question of what to do about Jim Gordon was going to have to remain unanswered for the time being, and it would perhaps even sort itself out, considering the fact that Jim was now the only police officer in all of Gotham. 

“Maybe we should think about getting the city a new mayor,” Oswald said thoughtfully, strumming his fingers on the edge of the dining table as he thought. 

Ed glanced up from what looked to be a Monet-inspired art piece he was creating with the peas and mashed potatoes on his plate. “You?” He offered, tilting his head, a small smile forming on his lips. He’d enjoyed Oswald’s last political campaign, and he’d definitely enjoyed being Chief of Staff. 

Oswald considered it, taking into account the glint in Edward’s eye and the amount of available time he had between spending time with Martin and participating in organized crime. “Not me,” he finally decided. “But someone I can control. A puppet.” 

Ed seemed a little disappointed by that, but his sadness was short-lived, because he immediately seemed to find an upside to not getting to be Oswald’s Chief of Staff. “It’ll give us more free time to plan Jim Gordon’s ultimate demise,” he said brightly. 

“And, you know, maybe spend a little more time with each other,” Oswald added. 

“Right. Yes, of course. That too. But first; Jim Gordon’s ultimate demise.”

Oswald couldn’t help but smile fondly at that, shaking his head. His boyfriend was delightfully evil sometimes. “But before that, I’m going to have to put a pause on all work for the night, Barbara is having a karaoke night at The Sirens.”

The way Ed wrinkled his nose and nearly choked on his tea before asking a shocked, “I’m sorry, _what?_” was enough for Oswald to make the decision that Edward absolutely _had _to come with him. If he was going to make Oswald attend scientific debates and lectures, Oswald was making him go to karaoke. 

“Karaoke night. At The Sirens,” Oswald repeated, pretending he hadn’t seen Ed’s shocked and disgusted reaction. “Victor invited me.”

“Victor,” Ed repeated. “The man who you had freeze me?” 

“No.” Oswald took a second to compose his facial expression. “Victor Zsasz.”

The magnitude at which Edward’s tea sprayed out of his mouth and across the entire length of the dining table was really quite impressive. “_Zsasz?_”

“Yes. Zsasz,” Oswald said calmly, successfully swallowing down his laughter and even managing to give Edward a confused eyebrow raise.

“I thought you hated him!”

“He grows on you.” 

“Yes, so does mold, and so does-” Ed was cut off by Oswald placing a hand on Ed’s and giving him a soft, pitying smile.

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous.” Maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but he couldn’t help it. Ed was too fun to mess with, and besides, he really wanted Ed to sing a duet with him. The last time he’d heard Ed sing was… when he’d been staying at Ed’s apartment, on the run from the law and recovering from nearly being killed.

“_Jealous_? Of _Victor Zsasz_?” Ed sputtered, his face turning red, whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Oswald wasn’t sure, but it was likely a mixture of both. This was just too much fun.

“Well, yes, seeing as he invited me, and I didn’t ask if you wanted to come, just because I know your negative feelings about karaoke and you seem… frustrated, so I can only assume that-”

Edward shut him up by standing and slamming his chair back under the table. “I am _not _jealous of Victor Zsasz, and to prove it to you, I’m coming with you.”

Oswald didn’t point out that Ed going with him did the opposite of proving he wasn’t jealous of Victor Zsasz, because this was what he’d wanted Ed to do from the start. He might’ve felt bad for subtly manipulating his boyfriend if it had been anything more than karaoke night, but as it was, he stood and led Ed out to the car after stopping briefly to change his suit jacket into more karaoke-appropriate attire, and formulate a plan for how exactly to get Ed to actually _participate _in karaoke. He figured he’d milked the ‘Victor Zsasz invited me’ excuse for all it was worth, and besides, he didn’t particularly want to sing a romantic duet with Zsasz. At all. So the plan was simply to get drunk off his ass and hopefully Ed would as well, and maybe a shitfaced Edward Nygma would be more willing to duet with his boyfriend. 

The first thing Oswald did when they arrived was get two martinis, handing one to Ed and chugging the other. As well as one could chug a martini, which wasn’t that well, but he did his best. Edward was much more sophisticated, sipping the martini slowly and stirring the olive around before eating it in a way that no one should be allowed to eat an olive. There was altogether too much tongue and Oswald was forced to look away, blushing heavily. He distracted himself by actually participating in what he’d come to the bat to do, which was karaoke, while Ed watched him from their table with a mildly impressed and occasionally embarrassed look from their table. 

After two more drinks each and long period of sitting together and making fun of other singers, Oswald had once again taken the microphone, and Ed was very concerned as to where it would lead. He had yet to get up, and he wasn’t planning on it until it was time to leave, and he certainly wasn’t planning on singing, despite Oswald’s best attempts. 

_“I've seen the seven wonders, if you give or take a few,” _Oswald began, and Ed rolled his eyes. Oh dear. He was going to try and make Ed sing a duet with him. He couldn’t deny that the romantic side of him really wanted to participate, but the… other side of him ultimately refused, so he just shook his head.

“Oswald, I’m not doing this,” Ed interrupted, taking a sip of his sherry, which was terrible, but that was neither here nor there. Oswald took no notice, winking at Ed before going back to the song. _“But all them seven wonders, well they can't compare to you.” _

“You’ve lived in Gotham for almost your entire life, I don’t think you’ve seen any of the seven wonders, so I don’t really see how this song applies to-”

_ “I've been a lot of places. Yes, I've traveled near and far, but now I know that home is where you are,” _Oswald continued, not acknowledging Ed’s complaints. 

He drained his sherry, setting the glass down and leaning back in his seat, watching Oswald. “I refuse to participate in this. So you may as well give up now.” 

Oswald payed him no mind. He stepped closer to where Ed was sitting, off the elevated stage. _“Niagara Falls; a leaky faucet that a plumber oughta fix.”_

“Please stop.” Ed Actually didn’t mind the singing, Oswald had a nice voice, but that didn’t mean he was going to duet with him. Even though it would make his boyfriend monumentally happy.

“_The Pyramids-”_

Ed sighed, resigning himself to his fate and deciding to stop complaining. But that absolutely didn’t mean he was going to sing. No way.

“_Are really just a dusty pile of bricks.” _Oswald was now sitting on Ed’s table, looking as if he was having the time of his life.

“_The Taj Mahal; a fixer upper, the Grand Canyon, just a hole.” _

“I mean, you aren’t wrong, I guess,” Ed responded, still not singing. 

“_The Grand Canal in Venice; an Italian toilet bowl,” _Oswald sang, hiding a laugh behind his hand.

“That’s rather rude, it’s only the pollution in the-” Ed began, but Oswald wasn’t listening to him.

“_I've seen the seven wonders, if you give or take a few, but all them seven wonders, well they can't compare to you._” He stopped singing for a minute to say something to Ed. “You have to at least do the next part,” he said, giving him that kicked puppy look that Ed couldn’t say no to with a good conscience. Not that Ed had much of a conscience, but the romantic side of him finally won out, proposing a truce with the serious side of him. He could just speak the lyrics instead of singing.

“_I've been a lot of places. Yes, I've traveled near and far, but now I know that home is where you are_.” Oswald gestured to Ed, who nearly rolled his eyes again.

“I refuse to sing,” Ed said. “The Aurora Borealis,” he offered.

Oswald waved his hand. “Just a night light on the fritz.” 

“Creative,” Ed muttered. “And Stonehedge?”

“-Is just a bunch of rocks.” 

Sighing for what seemed like the upteenth time, Ed continued. “La Brea's tar?”

Oswald shrugged. “The pits.” 

Okay, that was funny, and Ed snorted out a laugh before continuing. “How about the Leaning Tower of Pisa?” 

“It looks like something up and broke,” Oswald sang, noting the way Ed purposefully quirked his lips down so as not to smile. He was going to consider that a win.

“Mount Rushmore,” Ed suggested. 

“Oh, what, are we supporting racists now?” Oswald asked incredulously.

“Oswald, that isn’t the lyric,” Ed said, hiding another laugh. Maybe he was having fun. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever. 

Oswald lowered the microphone, looking mildly annoyed. “I’m sorry, did you want to sing?” He raised an eyebrow, holding out the microphone, and Ed’s competitive nature took over. 

“Well, I will, if you’re going to ruin the-” 

“Then here, take the microphone, and-“

Ed snatched it from Oswald, crossing his legs under the table._ “Yes my traveling days are over. You get the check and I'll pay the bill, ‘cause I see all the wonder in your eyes, just standing still.” _

Oswald’s completely shocked face was absolutely worth all the complaining commentary the aggressive side of Ed had to say. The Riddler did _not _like romantic karaoke duets, but Edward had decided he didn’t care. Possibly because of the three martinis and sherry he’d had over the past few hours. 

Ed continued singing, his voice not very loud and not incredibly enthusiastic, but Oswald’s eyes were shining happily. “_I’ve been a lot of places, but I've learned now near and far, there’s no need to roam, ‘cause home is where you are._”Ed lowered the microphone a little, leaning back in his chair. 

“Are you going to finish this song with me or not?” He asked, raising an expectant eyebrow and grinning.

Oswald laughed a little, leaning forward on the table and lowering his voice. “_Yes, now I know that home is where you are.” _

He took the microphone out of Ed’s hand and set it on the table, leaning even closer to kiss him. “I love you,” he whispered.

Edward didn’t respond, but he kissed Oswald back and pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his neck and another twisting through his hair, which was all the answer Oswald needed, really. The rather unwanted display of drunken PDA resulted in Ed and Oswald being asked to leave, and the rest of the night was pretty much a blur of drunk making out before they fell asleep in the limo with their limbs wrapped around each other, tangling in uncomfortable positions.


	2. Fuzzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having too much fun with this,,,

Jim Gordon’s life was almost completely ruined already, but that didn’t mean Ed couldn’t ruin it more, and it was definitely what he was planning to do. His dedication to the ultimate goal of ruining Jim may have partially been because he reminded Ed far too much of his childhood, and everyone knows a life of crime is the best way to cope with unresolved childhood trauma. Jim reminded Ed of those kids who wouldn’t exactly bully, but they wouldn’t help, either. They wouldn’t be friendly, they wouldn’t offer help, and for some reason felt as though because they never directly bullied Ed, he was obligated to let them copy his homework, or do all the work in a group project for them. 

The comically incorrect ‘sticks and stones will break my bones, but words can never hurt me’ was the most incredibly untrue phrase Edward had ever heard in his life. The bullies who beat Ed up after school and stole his belongings could be lived through, the physical violence of his father were ignored, and the occasional shoves from officers Ed worked with, he was able to tolerate. They were simple people, like violent cavemen, who only understood aggression and didn’t know how to take it out in a healthy manner.

It was when his classmates, his coworkers, his mother and father, anyone, would yell at him that he was weird or a moron, shun him and call him gay and things so much worse. Those left scars, scars so deep that Ed didn’t even know who he was for most of his life. He’d forced himself into relationships with any woman who didn’t immediately reject him, just to prove something, to prove he could be _normal_, and he’d applied for scholarships and gotten into the best college he could afford to move out to, to prove he wasn’t dumb. And he wasn’t dumb, he never had been, but that wasn’t going to stop him from continuing the need to prove himself to those he perceived as authority figures.

Jim Gordon would never say anything bad about Ed while they had worked together, at least, not when he knew Ed was there. He’d put on a thinly veiled show of professional courtesy that would vanish as soon as Edward disappeared around the corner. To Ed, that was worse than someone outright calling him a slur as he went about his work and then laughing it off as a joke, because Jim was _lying_. He pretended to be a hero, someone who cared about everyone, but he was just as judgmental and disgusting as everyone else. Worse, for not being upfront about it so he could keep up his good guy reputation. 

Oswald had been the first person Ed had met who understood him. He’d gone through so many of the same experiences Ed had, and he’d let those experiences make him stronger. He embraced every part of himself, the weird and unconventional, his disability, who he loved. Edward had fallen in love with him immediately, to see someone just like him in such a position of power, it was breathtaking. But he’d pushed it down, he’d ignored it, because he couldn’t be Oswald. That wasn’t who he was supposed to be, that, required show of masculinity drilled into him by his parents, by everyone who had called him gay, made it seem impossible to accept himself. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t have that same confidence Oswald carried himself with. Edward had always known he was different, socially awkward and too tall and thin to ever be considered attractive, and he’d known he was gay since he was a kid, but he’d pushed it down and tried to change himself. 

Even killing Oswald hadn’t gotten rid of those feelings. If anything, it had made him more aware of his feelings, which was perhaps the reason he’d been so willing to practically fall right into Lucius Fox’s arms. Lucius had left the GCPD with Lee to help her with her clinic in the Narrows, and during Ed’s brief stint as Solomon Grundy’s manager (?), they’d had what would likely be called, by any rational person, an absolute train wreck of a relationship. Ed’s trust issues were all out of whack, and that wasn’t even beginning to scrape the surface of his problems. He was very clearly still in love with Oswald, and almost certainly in denial about it. Essentially, his and Lucius’ relationship was comparable to that of a baby carriage careening towards a speeding bus, if the bus was on fire, filled with grenades, and spewing poisonous gas. 

Then Oswald had saved him, brought him back to life. And not only that, but Oswald had formulated a plan to get them both out of Gotham, safely, and together. That plan hadn’t panned out, and then after they’d ended up saving Gotham together, Ed had never gotten the time to really think about any of the things he should have thought about. Maybe his hyper-fixation on the best way to frame Jim Gordon for murder was a result of not wanting to think about his own mental state. Not that the other aspect of his personality allowed him to think about it, either, as he was constantly in the forefront of Ed’s mind, offering unsolicited advice and lounging around the house like he owned the place, which was a whole other slew of problems Ed wished he could ignore forever.

“Oswald?” Ed suddenly broke the long silence that had stretched between them, as Oswald read the newspaper, his legs crossed as he sat at the table, next to Ed, sipping his coffee. They were both significantly hungover from last night’s karaoke, and perhaps that was a contribution to why Ed had just had what was likely a horrible idea, and why he was impulsively presenting to Oswald without thinking it through. That was also probably the reason they were eating Chinese takeout for breakfast.

His boyfriend glanced up before focusing back on the paper again, setting his cup down on the kitchen table. “Hmm?”

“I’ve just been thinking… I liked being a forensic technician.” Ed tapped his chopstick against the table thoughtfully. 

_You what? _

Ed flinched at the appearance of the voice, even though he should have seen it coming, turning his head briefly and spotting the outline of a figure behind him. He did his best to ignore it. He wasn’t real, he _wasn’t real, _he’s _not_—

_I’m as real as you are, Ed. _The voice said his name mockingly, growing closer as it approached him from behind. _And I don’t like what you’re thinking. Do you really think you can have a normal life with your boyfriend? Do you really think you can be a domestic, hardworking, upstanding citizen? We both know that’s not who you are. You’re not this weak._

Ed ignored it, or tried to, at any rate, launching into a thoroughly unprepared explanation as to why it would be a good idea for him to go back to the GCPD. 

“You know, there’s really no use for those in the mob. Forensic scientists, I mean. But maybe once things are a little more stable, you know, the GCPD headquarters rebuilt, and all that, we’ll need someone on the inside to perform autopsies on mob victims and whatnot, cover things up, plant false evidence. I always wanted to be the medical examiner, but I wasn’t technically qualified. Since I don’t have a doctorate. But you could convince someone to let that slide and get me the job anyway.” That wasn’t entirely the reason he wanted to go back to work at the GCPD. He also wanted to have a normal job, be a normal citizen, come home and spend time with his boyfriend. His other personality found this idea disgustingly domestic.

_Love really has made you weak again, hasn’t it? This is the difference between you and Oswald. You see that, don’t you?_

The Riddler walked into Ed’s line of sight, standing behind Oswald’s chair and leaning forward, placing his hands on his shoulders. Ed flinched, trying to look away, wanting to get up and push the vision away, knowing he couldn’t, Oswald would think he was insane if he acknowledged the nonexistent presence.

_Love has always made him stronger. He took his love and turned it into power. _He brushed a hand through Oswald’s hair and Ed wanted to tell him to get away, don’t touch him, but he bit his tongue. 

Oswald said something in response to Ed’s explanation of being a medical examiner, but Ed was too preoccupied to hear him.

_But you, love only weakens you. You don’t deserve him. You can’t protect him. But I can. He likes me better, anyway. _He bent over, pressing a kiss on Oswald’s cheek, and Ed’s fist clenched, nearly snapping his chopstick in half. _I’m assertive, confident, smart, and I actually accept who I am. Do you really want your relationship with Oswald to be just like that train wreck with Foxy? _

“Don’t—” Ed forcefully bit his bottom lip. He couldn’t talk to himself in front of Oswald, he didn’t want to worry him. “I- headache,” Ed managed as an explanation before running out of the dining room and leaving behind a rather confused Oswald. He shut and locked the bathroom door behind him, leaning against it and breathing hard. 

“Leave me alone,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_I can’t exactly do that. You know, considering the fact that I’m literally part of you. _

“Why are you so set on ruining my life?” Ed hissed, tearing his eyes open and glaring at the figure in front of him, a mirrored image of himself, the only difference being the sadistic smirk on his face and the dark bowler hat and emerald green suit he wore. 

_Gonna throw that question right back at you, Eddie. Why are you so set on ruining your own life? You dreamed me up, you created me. You couldn’t accept all this. _He gestured emphatically at his body. _So you shoved it all into something else so you could blame someone other than yourself. But guess what? I’m still you. You’re alone in this bathroom, making up this conversation as a coping mechanism because you don’t want to admit to yourself that you aren’t the quiet, polite, domestic man you’re trying so hard to be. I am you. I’m The Riddler, and I’m Edward Nygma. Just like you are. You’re both of them, and you refuse to accept that. It’s been the same since you were a kid, hasn’t it?_

Ed swallowed, shaking his head. “No. No, it hasn’t. I know who I am. What happened with F- with Lucius— it won’t happen with Oswald. I know what I’m doing now.”

The illusion in front of him snorted. _You have no idea what you’re doing and you know it. If you really wanted to be a normal person, you’d tell Oswald what was going on with you. You’d ask him for help instead of ignoring it and projecting all of your insecurities onto anyone who crosses your path. _

“No! No, you don’t want what’s best for me! You don’t know me!” Ed picked up a shampoo bottle and turned away from the mirror, towards where the Riddler had been standing in the reflection, throwing it at the vision. It just tangled in the shower curtain before falling into the bathtub with a loud _thump_. 

“Ed?” A knock on the door made him jump, Oswald’s voice forcing him to remember where he was, what he was doing. “Were you talking to someone?”

Ed took a deep breath, and then another one, and a few more, before he unlocked it, opening the door to his boyfriend’s concerned expression. “I—” he started, before breaking off with a shuddering breath. “I—” Oswald looked so concerned, so genuinely worried, and any control Ed had over his emotions dissipated as he moved forward, wrapping his arms around Oswald. 

“He’s talking to you again, isn’t he?” Oswald asked, petting Edward’s hair. “What’s he telling you?”

He didn’t get an answer right away, Ed took a few long seconds before attempting to say anything. “Oswald… do you like him better than me?”

“What?” Oswald took a second to understand the question, to figure out the best way to answer it. “You’re you, Ed. I lo- I like you. You’re confident, you’re a genius, and sweet and romantic, and I like all of it. Sometimes you get that look in your eye, like that spark of mad scientist, and sometimes you’re soft and loving. You might feel like you’re split in two, and I can’t really understand how that feels, but I do know that most of the time, you’re an absolutely delightful combination of a cold genius and a romantic dork.” Oswald wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say, if it would help at all, and Ed didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either, and they stayed there for a long time, Oswald petting his hair as Ed breathed deeply, his arms wrapped securely around Oswald’s waist.

His words did help, even if Ed couldn’t really believe them. He didn’t _feel _like one person, he didn’t even know how feeling like one person would feel, because he’d never felt it, not really. The closest he’d come was when he’d been Oswald’s Chief of Staff, when he’d constantly had something to keep his mind occupied, and that was what he hoped to accomplish with becoming a medical examiner. 

“I’m sorry,” Ed muttered finally, pulling away from the hug and sighing, avoiding Oswald’s eyes. 

“You don’t have to apologize, darling. We all have our demons. Some of them are just… louder than others, and it’s okay.” Oswald took his hand, squeezing it gently. “About being the medical examiner— I spoke to a friend of mine in the department, and I think we’ll be able to work something out. Imagine the look on Jim Gordon’s face when he realizes you’re working with him again.” He paused. “That is, if you haven’t changed your mind.”

“I haven’t, But… we can’t stay here,” Ed said suddenly. 

“What? What do you mean?”

“With everything going on in Gotham, and the… lack of police and whatnot. Especially if we’re going to be ruining the life of the only non-corrupt and still-alive cop in this entire city. It would be more safe if we moved out of Gotham for a little while.” 

Oswald blinked, not expecting that sudden change of Ed’s mood, even though he probably should have expected it, considering Ed’s often and abrupt change from extreme emotions to complete rationality . “Oh. You’re probably right about that. Considering you’re usually right about everything. But…” His protest about not wanting to leave Gotham faded before it was fully formed. “Where?”

“Just outside the city. I know how much you love it, we can’t be too far away.” 

“And I know how much you hate it,” Oswald smiled, kissing Ed’s jaw softly. “But outside the city… by that, you don’t mean the suburbs, do you?” He could not imagine himself or Ed existing in anything remotely close to a suburban setting, although he _did _find the idea highly amusing. 

“Well, they do say the suburbs are a nice place to raise a child,” Ed smiled. He wasn’t sure how Martin would feel about moving to the suburbs, but he had to admit that the image of Oswald taking Martin to the park and making small talk with local parents was hilarious. 

“Are you—” Ed was serious, and Oswald blinked a couple times, opening and closing his mouth. “I mean— you may be right about that. Martin doesn’t exactly have many friends right now, he doesn’t get along that well with the kids at his school.”

“Exactly. So it’s settled then?” 

Oswald wasn’t sure why Ed seemed so excited about the prospect, perhaps because he didn’t like Gotham that much, or maybe because the process of moving was another way to distract himself from whatever was going on inside his head at the moment, and Oswald couldn’t blame him for that. 

“I— I suppose it is. You know, I bet I could hire Butch as a gardener, since there’s not much use for bodyguards in the suburbs. We could hire him to keep our nice, two story suburban family home presentable and better than everyone else’s,” Oswald joked, grinning. 

Ed snorted in laughter, before pushing his glasses up his nose and clearing his throat. “Well, I think I’ll start looking at home prices and the best locations, then. How do you feel about having a pool?”


	3. Sanremo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for this chapter read: “Ed frames Jim Gordon for an art heist and Jim is like why are you doing this to meeeeeee and Ed is like *john mulaney delta airlines voice* because I’m Edward Nyyyyyygmaaaaa”. so there’s that i guess.

“You know the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit coming to the Gotham Museum?” Ed asked, handing Martin’s math homework back to him after checking it over for him. He turned towards Oswald, who grunted in response. 

“The security around it is insane. _Salvator Mundi _is going to be on exhibit.” When Oswald didn’t seem visibly surprised by that information, Ed continued the necessary exposition to precede his elaborate heist plan. “It’ll be the first time it’s been on exhibit in over thirty years. It was just bought a couple years ago, for about four point five hundred million dollars, which is the most a painting has ever been sold for at auction.” 

Humming again, Oswald didn’t seem particularly invested in what Ed was saying. “Just don’t kill any of the guards,” he answered after a second, having come to the perfectly rational (and correct) conclusion that Ed was planning to steal the painting. “Makes the investigation that much more serious, you know, and we’ve only just settled down here.” 

“What if one of the guards was Jim Gordon?” Ed asked casually, hiding a smirk. 

Oswald looked up instantly, blinking. “What?” 

As Martin left the living room to go outside and look at bugs, Ed grinned at Oswald, glad to have his attention. “What if,” he repeated, “one of the guards…” a pause for dramatics, “… was Jim Gordon?” 

“Is this a purely hypothetical scenario?” 

“Entirely, completely hypothetical. It’s not like I looked into Jim Gordon’s work schedule while I was supposed to be performing an autopsy or anything. I would absolutely _never _do that,” Ed answered with an innocent smile. “Also, we really have to do something. Jim’s on the war path again, and he’s planning something. Apparently he took the bombing of the precinct and subsequent death of all his coworkers personally.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Oswald said, glancing at Ed with the hint of a smile on his face. “I assume you’ve planned this out already?”

“Of course.”

“Need any help?” 

Ed shook his head. “Don’t think so. You have your hands full anyway, with Martin, and trying to regain control of your empire.” 

“And Edward,” Oswald added, reaching down and giving the large, grumpy bulldog sitting next to his chair ear scratches. 

“I really wish you’d rename that dog,” Ed said, just barely managing to avoid rolling his eyes. 

“You love it and him, just admit it.”

“I categorically deny that.” 

Oswald picked up the bulldog, placing it in his lap, where it proceeded to snort loudly. “So you rescued him from our stolen submarine just out of your deep devotion to me?”

Ed balked at that, crossing his arms. “I deny that also.”

“But not categorically?” 

Ed chose not to dignify that with an answer, instead standing and straightening his tie. “I’m not tolerating slander in this, my own home, for one more second. I’m going to work.” 

“Do you need a ride?” Oswald asked pleasantly, smiling at him. 

Ed scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You won’t catch me dead in that heinous vehicle, especially not rolling up to ruin Jim Gordon’s life.” Oswald had recently decided it would be a good idea to purchase a Prius, custom painted royal purple with the edition of glitter. It was possibly the worst thing Ed had set eyes on, and that was saying a lot. 

It tended to take Ed roughly an hour to get into Gotham from their house. He had to take both the bus and newly rebuilt (slightly dysfunctional) subway and was usually forced to make conversation with plebeians sitting next to him who didn’t understand who he was—and why they shouldn’t even _deign _to talk to him. 

But he enjoyed his job for the most part, although he wouldn’t have it for much longer. He’d have to lay low for a while after framing Jim Gordon. He should think about finding a replacement job, something normal and not too obvious, like a librarian. He’d probably enjoy that. 

Something about that thought gave him an uncomfortable feeling and it took him a while to figure out what it was: Isabella had been a librarian. Ed had done a good job of keeping thoughts of her locked away, but now at work with his brain on autopilot as he scanned through floor plans and security guard schedules at the Gotham Art Museum, he had plenty of time to let his thoughts wander. 

Isabella had hurt him and she would’ve hurt him again. She wasn’t a good person—not that Ed had ever claimed to be a good person or to want a relationship with a good person. However, there was a stark difference between being a murderer and thief and being abusive to your partner. There were some crimes Ed would never think of committing and things he could never forgive someone for doing but somehow, he’d let it happen with Isabella. She’d manipulated him and purposely reminded him of his trauma, hiding it under the guise of helping him. Reliving trauma in a new relationship was still reliving trauma, no matter how many times Isabella would call it _coping. _It wasn’t ever going to help him, it only traumatized him all over again. She should’ve known that, she _did _know that and she’d hurt him anyway. 

He’d let her hurt him emotionally and physically, maybe because he believed he deserved it. That was around the time he’d been struggling with his feelings for Oswald, feelings for another man which felt so incredibly _wrong _and disgusting and Isabella appeared at the perfect time to punish him for it.

And then Oswald had betrayed him. 

It had all worked out, eventually. Isabella had been disposed of in the torturous manner she deserved and both Oswald and Ed had learned what love truly was, in the hardest way but at least it had gotten them there. 

Ed spent the next few hours perfecting his plan and tying up any loose ends before leaving early to visit Lee in the Narrows. She’d been reestablishing her control over the area and helping those who needed it—which was everyone in the Narrows, as per usual. Ed hated it there and all those people could die in a ditch for all he cared, but Lee had been his friend and he didn’t have many of those left. Although Lee had mentioned there was someone else helping her bring clean running water and electricity to the area, she hadn’t said who. 

“Doctor Thompkins,” Ed bowed theatrically, removing his bowler with a flourish as he entered her small makeshift hospital building, stepping around (and over) some patients.

“Ed.” Lee did not match his enthusiasm in her greeting, in fact she looked rather like she didn’t want him to be there, which Ed chose to ignore. “You know, now is really not the greatest time.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, and Ed took note that it was nearly as long as it had been when they’d been in the Narrows together. She’d very much enjoyed flipping it behind her shoulder like that smugly whenever Ed would come back with more woes from his misadventures with one Lucius Fox. Ed had never let her have the satisfaction of telling her she’d been right about Ed jumping into the uncharted waters of that relationship while in the mental state he was, even though they both knew she’d been right. 

“Not the greatest time? While it’s a good thing I’m here, because I always make things a great-” Ed’s response was cut short by the awkward clearing of a throat a few feet behind him. He spun around, faced with none other than the absolute last person he wanted to see. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but whatever.

“Foxy.” The name slipped out of his mouth before he had the good sense to think about it, and he mentally smacked himself. 

Lucius opened his mouth, then closed it again, and then opened it. “Ed. ward.” The second syllable was added on after a hard stop, like Lucius had rethought what to call him at the last second. There was a rather long pause, one might even call it an awkward silence, before Lucius cleared his throat. “What,” he stopped again, like he was making sure he didn’t say anything rude to Ed, “are you doing here?”

“I’m.” Great, now Ed was hard stopping. He swallowed, shifting on the balls of his feet. “I’m visiting Doctor Thompkins.” At least he hadn’t said, ‘I’m planning to frame Jim Gordon for murder and an art heist, wanna help?’ He’d already tried to get Lucius involved in his schemes, back in the… well, not necessarily the good old days, but… the mediocre to bad old days. Obviously, that had never panned out. It had been disappointing, back then. Lucius was the only person he knew who was close enough to the intellect of Oswald. 

“Evidently,” Lucius said, in a tone of voice that said, defensively, ‘well, I wasn’t expecting you to be here for me’.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Evidently,” he repeated. He cleared his throat again and Ed had the foggiest recollection that he should probably say something else, but his brain couldn’t think of whatever it was he should be saying. 

Lee took that moment to step forward and press a chilled cocktail into Ed’s hand, before stepping in front of him and addressing Lucius. “Are the lights in the back working again?”

Lucius gave a nod of confirmation as Ed sipped his newly acquired drink, wondering briefly where Lee had gotten the crème de menthe, the Narrows certainly didn’t have the money for flavored and colored liqueurs. At least, not to his knowledge.

“Ed, why don’t you join me in my office? Let’s catch up. And Lucius, you can head out, I’m sorry for calling you here this late.”

Thank god for helpful friends. Ed breathed a sigh of relief as Lucius left without another word to Ed, and he was able to follow Lee into her office without having to worry about any more stilted conversations. 

“That was absolutely heinous to watch,” Lee stated matter-of-factly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall, gesturing for Ed to sit on the hospital bed if he wanted, which he did, after making a show of wiping it off with his pocket square. “I thought you were over all that.”

“By _all that,_ what exactly do you mean?”

Lee gave him a look that meant she knew that he knew exactly what she meant by _all that. _

Time to change the subject onto something other than Ed’s emotional and/or relationship problems. “How about your _all that_?”

“Meaning?” 

Ed shrugged. “How are you and that giant pain in everyone’s ass police commissioner?” He took a sip of his drink, immediately getting hit with a wave of nostalgia from the minty, heavily alcoholic taste of it.

Lee snorted, making Ed smile. “I and the giant pain in _my _ass, you mean. We’re totally done, have been for while.”

“You never did tell me how you and Lucius actually got together, did you?”

Ed sighed. “I never told you for a reason. I was stupid. Even more stupid than all the other stupid things I actually _told _you I did.”

********

_“Ed. You killed six people.”_

_ “Mmhm.” _

_ “Seven, including Penguin. You just announced to the entire city that you are a villain and a murderer.”_

_ “Mmhm.”_

_ “Ed. If there is any part of your mind that is… not insane, listen to me. You need help. Turn yourself in.”_

_ “My actions seem… mad… to you?”_

_ “To anyone.”_

_ “I- I just killed the best friend I have ever had. My search for a teacher, or an enemy. That was just me trying to hold onto him for a little longer. I don’t know… who I am without him.”_

_ “Ed, do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”_

_ The lack of response seemed as good as any. “You can stay at my place tonight,” he said with an air finality, starting up the car._

_ Lucius held the door open for him, watching him carefully as he walked in, glancing around at the apartment. He’d always figured Lucius did well for himself, and, not that he ever spent his spare time envisioning the interior decor of Lucius Fox’s apartment, he had imagined a lot of beige. And look! Beige. _

_ He looked back over at Lucius, finding him staring again, and Lucius cleared his throat, looking away. “Sorry. You can, um, get a shower if you want. The bathroom’s that door over there, and there should be a pair of pajamas in the top drawer you can borrow.” _

_ “You gonna call the cops on me?” Ed asked, taking off his hat and setting it on the coffee table. _

_ “Are you planning on making anymore trouble tonight?”_

_ Ed hesitated. He’d just been offered a place to stay for the night by someone he considered a friend, he didn’t want to lose it. “No.”_

_ “Then no.”_

_ Lucius’ shampoo smelled like him, a refreshing, minty scent that invoked a feeling of warmth and safety. Something he hadn’t felt since Oswald. The pajamas Lucius had let him borrow were soft dark green flannel, and Ed didn’t bother to comb his hair. He couldn’t look in the mirror, not tonight._

_When he came out of the bathroom wearing the borrowed pajamas and feeling altogether rather awkward. Just before Lucius opened his mouth to say something from his place on the couch where he’d been reading, Ed surged forward and kissed him, a desperate attempt to feel something, anything at all. He hadn’t thought about it before this exact second, but for some reason it just seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe he was imagining Oswald, holding onto him a little bit longer, as Lucius had said. Whatever the reason for it was, Lucius didn’t push Ed away, he instead brought him closer, kissing him almost lovingly. _

_“What are you doing?” He asked quietly, pushing Ed back by his shoulders just enough to speak.   
Ed shook his head and said nothing, he didn’t have an explanation for what he’d just done, and he didn’t want one, so he positioned himself sideways on the couch and wrapped his arms around Lucius, taking in his warmth and comfort._

********

On the way back home, Ed successfully stopped by the museum, stealing the painting, and honestly, it was as easy as pie, not even a challenge. Gotham’s security would never improve. He debated leaving evidence at the scene that would implicate Jim Gordon, or tampering with the evidence afterward, and ultimately decided both would be twice as good, because if less was more, one could only imagine how much more more would be. 

Right? Yeah. Probably. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive lost the plot and we're only on chapter three but dont you worry ill get it back under control right quick here


	4. Center of Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selina Kyle is a lesbian and in this essay I will-

“Ed, you aren’t gonna believe this,” Oswald called from his position at the front window, peaking out the blinds where he was watching a moving truck get unloaded next door.

‘_He’s becoming a suburban mom_,’ Martin signed to Ed, who hid a laugh behind a fake cough, before turning to Oswald, pretending to be interested in their new neighbor’s personal lives. 

“Yes, Oswald?”

“Guess who our new neighbors are.”

Ed turned back to Martin, raising an eyebrow. He simply shrugged and turned back to his drawing. “Well, if I’m not going to believe it, I likely won’t be able to guess either, so why don’t you just tell me?”

Despite the annoyance in Ed’s tone, he didn’t really mind Oswald’s nosiness. He liked the feeling of domesticity it brought to him. Before… everything had happened, he could have imagined settling down like this with Kristen. Not necessarily romantically with her, but just in general, he loved he idea of having a calm, normal life, with kids and a cozy house and a partner to share it with. His thought process was interrupted by Oswald speaking again.

“It’s Tabitha and Barbara.”

“_What_?” Ed’s head snapped over to Oswald as he stood up, leaving Martin alone. Martin probably rolled his eyes, or did something else just as resigned as that at his fathers’ suburban PTA mom antics. 

“Holy shit. What are they playing at?” Ed gawked out at them, watching them unpack boxes of— yep, that was an entire box of knives. Par for the course when it came from Barbara and Tabby, but it still seemed like a subtle threat.

“No idea.” Oswald turned away from the window for the briefest of seconds to address Martin. “Martin, stay in the backyard if you want to go outside. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw a butcher knife. And I can’t throw a butcher knife past the front lawn.”

Martin nodded in a way that was incredibly convincing and totally believable, not that Oswald was looking at him anymore. He had do spy on his new neighbors; it was much more important, obviously. 

“Maybe we should go say hi. Try and convince them there’s no bad blood between us, that sort of thing,” Ed offered, adjusting his glasses and smiling placatingly. It was entirely the wrong thing to say, as Oswald launched into a tirade about fraternizing with the enemy. 

“Well, babe, I’m off to work. This has been fun.” Ed managed to give Oswald a kiss on the cheek in-between his rapidly escalating rant. 

He waved goodbye to Martin, who tilted his head at him. _‘You burned down your work and framed your boss,’ _he signed, looking confused. 

_‘Got a job at the aquarium, remind me to give you a tour.’ _He grinned and grabbed his bag before heading out the door and into the chilly Spring air. 

Sneaking over to visit the next door neighbors while his boyfriend was spying on said neighbors and didn’t want Ed associating with them was probably the only thing Ed had done at all recently that required braincells. 

“Barbara Kean.” Ed grinned, tipping his bowler hat in greeting before turning to Tabby. “And Tabitha Galavan. What a _coincidence_. Oswald and I live right next door.” He grinned at them, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why exactly they were here, and maybe what their newest scheme to ruin Ed’s life was. 

Tabby was looking at him as she usually did, like she had walked into a carpeted room and only just noticed there was something very disgusting stuck on the bottom of her shoe. 

When Ed didn’t receive an immediate response, he continued to grin nonchalantly, despite his annoyance. “Tabitha, just as lovely as you’ve always been.” That could’ve been a thinly veiled insult, except for the fact that Tabby was, objectively, gorgeous, and her disgusted expression aimed at Ed somehow really only enhanced her beauty. Scowling was a good look on her. “And Barbara…” he tilted his head, squinting at her. Something was off. For one, she didn’t have a martini in her hand, and… “Oh my God. You’re pregnant.”

Barbara looked down at her stomach, as if somehow she had suddenly begun to look more than six weeks pregnant. “How could you _possibly _know that?” 

“You’re glowing. She’s glowing, right? You can see it, can’t you? Not that you wouldn’t already know,” he said, addressing Tabby, who had changed her expression from one of abhorrent disgust to absolute shock. 

“I- of _course _I knew, I-” Tabby shook her head, waving her hands. “I’m leaving. I have to go lug furniture up two floors because _someone _decided not to hire movers and conveniently get pregnant in the same month.” Tabby raised an eyebrow at Barbara, who only shrugged and called out a half hearted _sorry, babe, _after her, to which Tabitha responded by flipping them both off and disappearing inside the house. 

“Listen, Eddie,” Barbara began, as soon as the front door shut behind Tabby, “We didn’t move here to get under your skin, we came here to start over. To start a family. Not to cause any trouble with you and Pengy. Promise.”

“You do know there’s absolutely no way I could _possibly _believe that, right?”Ed asked, crossing his arms. 

“Do you seriously think I care enough about getting revenge on the two of you enough to get pregnant, buy a house in the suburbs, plan a long con, and what? Poison a fruitcake and bring it over to you? Sabotage your PTA elections? Frame your kid for marijuana possession?”

“Well, none of those things had occurred to me before, but now that you’ve said them, I absolutely think you’re planning to do all of those things, yes.”

Barbara threw her hands up, exasperated, before seeming to come up with an idea and rummaging around in her purse for a minute before finding what she’d been looking for; a slightly crumpled invitation of some sort. 

“Tabby and I are getting married in September. Come to the wedding. You can bring a plus one, if you can convince Pengy. If not, feel free to bring your kid. Bring him anyway. He seems like the sweetest of you three. Maybe that’ll convince you we aren’t faking this.”

Ed’s face clearly stated that he believed they were faking all of this, but he took the invitation anyway, shoving it in his bag. “Whatever. I have to go to work. Have fun unpacking.” He turned around and nearly walked directly into someone. “Street trash girl,” he said in greeting, “what the hell are you doing here?” 

Cat shrugged, moving past him. “I sort of have moms now.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, it isn’t _legal_,” Cat admitted, using air quotes to demonstrate the relative legality of her adoption. “Lot like your husband’s adoption of that Martin kid.”

Ed opened his mouth to respond to defend Oswald, but instead came out with, “He’s not my husband. We only just started-” Ed stopped, deciding not to get into a rant about the complicated nuances of having a relationship with Oswald considering their history. They hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ yet. Except that time at the karaoke bar. But Oswald had been heavily drunk, and Ed had never acknowledged it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

When Barbara cleared her throat, Ed had the realization that he’d been standing on her doorstep staring into space for what was likely an uncomfortable amount of time, and quickly excused himself. 

********

“I cannot _believe _you invited them,” Tabby whispered, gritting her teeth, shooting daggers in Ed’s direction. 

Barbara sighed, putting a hand on Tabby’s shoulder to prevent her from pouncing on their guests during the reception while her other rested across her stomach. She was almost seven months pregnant and thoroughly regretting her decision to get married before having their baby, the last minute tailoring for her dress had been a nightmare, and it still didn’t seem to fit her right. She’d been fidgeting throughout the entire ceremony. Although Tabby insisted she’d never looked more gorgeous, so that was enough for her complaints on it to be scaled down. 

“We are neighbors. It’ll be nice to bury the hatchet. Metaphorically, Tabby,” she added, “please don’t bury a hatchet in Eddie.”

Tabitha pursed her lips, crossing her arms as she continued to glare in Edward’s direction before sighing in defeat. “Fine. But only because it’s our wedding day, and even though you invited the _person who tried to kill me, _this day is about us.” She leaned forward, giving Barbara a kiss, pulling her close with a hand on the small of her back.

“Thats the spirit,” Barbara murmured, smiling into the kiss.

They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat next to them and reluctantly pulled away to see Cat, her ring bearer suit looking significantly worse for wear like she’d gotten into a fight and her curly hair sticking up in every possible direction. 

“Just to let you know, your flower girl turned some rich business man into a palm tree behind the hors d’oeuvres table. Mazel tov.” She held up her wine glass filled to the brim with sparkling apple cider before blending back into the crowd, searching for someone she could’ve sworn she’d seen at the wedding earlier. So far, she had yet to succeed in finding her friend, but she had to be around somewhere. There was no way Bridget Pike would run the risk of not being able to steal from rich people.

"Bridget!” She yelled suddenly, spotting her tall figure at the edge of the dancing circle and leaping over unsuspecting guests to get to her before she vanished again. “Bridget, where’ve you been? I thought you were gonna leave without saying hi.” 

Bridget blinked, smiling at Cat before pulling her into a quick hug. “I didn’t know you’d want to see me. Since… you know. You moved into a nice neighborhood or whatever.” There was only a slightly bitter edge to her tone.

Cat shook her head, rolling her eyes as she swirled her wine glass in that snobby rich person way. “Oh, of _course_, darling, I absolutely _adore _living in my _thriving _McMansion, it’s _truly _spiffy,” she said, putting on a Transatlantic accent. 

Bridget snickered into her hand, stealing Cat’s wine glass and sipping the cider before giving it back. “I should never have assumed you’d so easily adjust to being part of the upper middle class. But you do live with them, right?” She asked, gesturing to Barbara and Tabby.

Cat shrugged. “Sometimes. I come around when I feel like it. They make me food and keep my room clean, so it’s nice to crash there when I don’t have anywhere else.”

“They’re a cute couple.”

Nodding in agreement, Cat stared down at her glass. “I kinda miss having that. Someone I can be close to.”

“You mean with Bruce?”

Cat choked on her drink, shaking her head with enough ferocity to dislodge a bobby pin from her hair. “_Fuck _no. I could never be with a rich moron like him. No, I mean… with you. When we used to be close. You know, before we got messed up with the mob and shit.”

Bridget’s face colored and she smiled down at her shoes. “Oh. I- I miss that, too. Cat, I just wanted to say that I-” 

“Dare you to steal more wallets than me,” Cat suddenly interrupted, apparently not realizing Bridget had been about to say something important, before she downed the rest of her cider and put it on a passing waiter’s tray and jumping away, looking back with a mischievous grin. 

********

“Any chance you’ve got my wallet in that stash?” Butch appeared behind Cat as she sat on the windowsill of Barbara and Tabby’s house, still wearing his best man suit with a crumpled boutonniere in the breast pocket. 

She shook her head after double checking the ID’s and driver’s licenses she had. “Bridget probably got it. We were playing a game. What’re you doing here anyway? I thought you were working for Penguin.”

Butch grimaced, setting down the cardboard box he’d been carrying. “Barbara bribed me to stop working for him and help her and Tabby move in instead.”

“He ain’t gonna be happy when he finds out,” Cat commented, counting up her stack of cash and waving it triumphantly. 

Butch muttered something under his breath as he walked out, which Cat adamantly ignored as she stuffed the cash in her pockets and climbed up to the roof, looking down to watch Butch as he unloaded the moving truck before scanning the neighborhood itself. 

It was a relatively nice neighborhood, most of the houses were at least two stories and occupied, but there were a couple, one especially, that interested her. It was a street over, the windows almost all boarded up, right next door what was probably the smallest house in the neighborhood, only one story, despite (from Cat’s account) being occupied by a family with at least five kids of varying ages that were constantly screaming at each other.

The boarded up house was presumably empty, but every once in a while, Cat was convinced she’d seen something moving in there and tonight was the night she was investigating. 

Cat jumped off the roof, rolling behind a gardenia bush to hide from Barbara, who’d just come out of the house to delegate Butch’s unpacking skills. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quick enough and Barbara appeared above her, arms crossed. 

“You’ll ruin my planter bed,” she complained, to which Cat responded by sticking her tongue out. “Come in for dinner, I won’t have you skulking around and ruining our reputation with the neighbors after they brought us cookies.” She paused, gesturing to the Penguin’s house. “Not those neighbors. The other ones.” 

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You can’t just-”

“I can and I will.”

“Cat!”

“You know,” Cat started, standing up and brushing her knees off, deciding to spitefully relent to Barbara’s instance that she needed dinner, “Tabby doesn’t pressure me to stay here all the time. She gets that I’m a free spirit. Maybe I won’t go by Kean, and instead I’ll be Cat Galivan.”

Barbara blinked, staring down at her. “You were… planning to take my name?”

“_Planning, _yes, but now I’m Selina Cat Galivan, not Kean. Because you’re not my real mom-”

“Tabby isn’t your real mom either!”

“Whatever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people ask me all the time, "Ailish, when are you going to introduce ivy and harley?" and to them i say. soooooooon. next chapter ivy is comin i promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @kaijuvenom
> 
> leave comments if you like it so far, you have no idea how hard I worked on planning this out and writing it skfjdkfjkdhlssk. Hopefully updates will be no further apart than every other week, but I don't have a strict schedule.


End file.
